The Awesome Saga of Ace Detective Clownfish
by Zeronos
Summary: Follow Ace Detective Fire Clownfish of the Bikini Bottom Police Department as he unfolds the mystery surrounding the mysterious "Sponge Killer" and fight to deliver justice to the crime ridden streets of his beloved underwater city.
1. Prologue

**Friday December 5, 2010 5:00 PM**

"**BANG!" went the gunfire as bullet after bullet whizzed right past my head barely missing me. I attempted to fire back only to be slightly grazed on my right arm. I hate the sound of guns. I hate using one as well, but when someone fires a gun at me I have no choice, but to shoot back. Maybe I shouldn't even leave my bed in the morning. Maybe I could stick to my covers and sleep the day away. That's not going to fly with me. **

**The perp took this opportunity to reload his weapon and that was a big mistake. I jumped out from behind the bookshelf and fired two bullets into each of his hands. No more firing that gun at me or anyway else for that matter. I walked over to him past the carnage of the destroyed bookstore and when I was spitting distance of the criminal I spat in his face. **

"**Justice has been served. Have a nice day." **

**I felt no need to handcuff him or restrain him in anyway. He wasn't going anywhere especially not with that bullet I nailed in his right knee cap earlier in the fire fight. The cops would get here any minute and I would get scowled for my unorthodox methods again by the chief. Who cares if my methods are unorthodox? I caught him didn't I? The Cookie Bandit. He'll never steal from any cookie jar again after what I did to him. **

**The sun was beginning to set so in the cover of twilight I made my escape from the area. I heard the echo of the police sirens as they made their way towards the bookstore and the present I left waiting for them. They're so slow I'm glad I was around to get the job done. As long as the criminal has been caught and justice has been swiftly dealt I can sit back and enjoin a pleasing smoke. There's something I always wonder as my freshly lit cigarette makes it way to my mouth hole. How can I light cigarette underwater? It's a good thing I thought that and didn't say it out loud. Every time I mention the impossibility it immediately goes out as if to correct itself or perhaps even to mock me. **

"**Life is filled with misery and woe, but as long as I have my cigarette no matter how impossible it may be."**

**Just then my cigarette went out and I threw it to the ground nonchalantly. **

"**Damn that was my last one." **

**I breathed in some good old H2O and exhaled with a deep sigh. My name is Detective Fire Clownfish of the Bikini Bottom Police Department. Age: 42 Height: 6'1 feet. Weight: 165 pounds. Skin Color: Orange with white stripes or maybe white with orange stripes. Favorite Food: None of your damn business. This is my recounting of the events of December 6 2010 to December 11 2010. Listen well cause I'm not going to repeat myself. It all started with a sudden phone call from the chief. Something about a murder on Conch Street and that he wanted me to investigate….. **


	2. Holy Mackerel

Friday December 5, 2010 5:32 P.M.

Before I begin my investigation down on Conch Street I decided is time for a well deserved break. It's not like the body is going anywhere. I stop by my home away from home, Goofy Goober Ice Cream Parlor. I opened the front door and I was met by a gust of wind. Can the wind even blow under the water? I pondered this as my signature brown trench coat flowed in the seemingly impossible breeze. I made sure to always wear my trench coat and my precious fedora perched on top of my head. Sometimes I even wear an eye patch to intimate low lives. Eye patches are badass and I am defiantly a badass.

I stood in the doorway for several minutes, but soon got bored of it. I causally strode over to the counter where I spotted my ex partner, Johnny "Iced" Mackerel, as he took a sip of his vanilla milkshake pretending not to notice me. How can you not notice me? I'm a freakin' badass! I make even the toughest of brutes piss their tidy whities and run home crying to their momma with the mere mention of my name. I'm that badass.

"I'll take a chocolate milkshake, shaken not stirred. If's it's stirred then you can pray to Neptune that I forgot to reload my pistol."

The frightened acme faced juvenile in charge of the counter immediately proceeded to prepare my milkshake as quick as he possibly could. I then sat at the bar stool right to Mackerel.

"That's just like you to tell people to pray when you don't even pray yourself," chuckled Mackerel.

He's right I don't pray, I don't even believe in Neptune. Sure he's visited town plenty of times before, but that doesn't mean I believe he is a god. If there is a god he would be a major badass and have an awesome handlebar moustache. That would be so badass it could kill somebody with its sheer badassery.

Mackerel is the preacher at the Church of Neptune. Like I said he was my partner until he was discharged for that one incident involving a young girl and the candy in his pocket. He disgusts me and annoys the hell out of my wish his constant preaching.

"So what case are you working on Clownfish?" said Mackerel as he took another sip of his milkshake, "Still tracking down that ding-dong ditcher?"

"That's classified information, but let's just say he's ding-dong ditching the Devil's doorbell now."

Mackerel laughed again, but this time chocolate ooze shot out of his nose and hit the juvenile worker right in the face as he was delivering my shake. He deserved that for making me wait so damn long. As Mackerel was busy laughing his religious ass off I noticed a picture hanging out of his pants pocket. It was of a whale. It was of a girl. It was of a girl whale. A young girl whale by the looks of it.

"What are you doing with that, Mackerel? You remember how long of a prison sentence you received when you stalked that little Suzy girl."

"I did not stalk her, I merely followed her everywhere she went for a week street," replied Mackerel with sweat running down his face.

"That's called stalking."

"No it's not. It's walking a few feet behind her and following her everywhere she went for a week without her knowing," replied a very nervous and defensive looking Mackerel.

"Which is stalking. I just want to know what the deal is with the photograph."

"Oh this photo?" said Mackerel as he pulled it out of his pocket for me to examine, "That's Pearl, the star of an internet pornography show called Playtime with Pearl. It's quite enjoyable, you should give it a watch sometime."

"No thanks. Porno isn't my thing especially ones that involve young girls."

"Ah you must swing the other way then eh?" joked Mackerel or at least I believe he was joking.

I have no interest in women or men for that matter. I'm defiantly not a virgin, but I don't plan on settling down anytime soon. Justice is my wife, the law is my mistress, and I have tacos every Thursday. I loved a woman once, a very long time ago when I worked as a door to door pillow salesman, but that's a story for another time. I had almost completely drained my shake of its chocolately substance when my cellular conch phone began to ring. Ignoring Mackerel's babble about what he fantasies about doing with the whale I answered the call right away. It was the chief and he did not sound happy.

"Hello? Ace Detective Clownfish speaking."

"What the hell are you doing Clownfish! I told you to be at Conch Street 45 minutes ago!" barked the chief.

"Actually It has only been 44 minutes chief."

"I don't give a damn! Just get down there or you're fish sticks!" roared the chief much like a feral beast.

The chief immediately hanged up without even saying good. That was rude of him. I then stood up from my bar stool, paid the juvenile, and bid farewell to Mackerel who didn't seem to notice that I was leaving. He sickens me, the pedophile. Anyway it was time to start my hard hitting investigation were I won't stop until the culprit reasonable fries in the electric chair. I won't quit even if my eyeballs are ripped right out of my sockets and force fed to me with a side of my pancreas. I won't give up. I won't give in. I won't even pay my taxes! That's how committed I am to this case! Now to head over to Conch Street and be the badass detective I am, but first some shut eye. I'm exhausted. My investigation begins first thing tomorrow morning!


End file.
